26th May 2026 - What a Corker!

Reading the papers or watching the news it can be hard to disagree with Jarvis Cocker's 2006 treatise on the nature of those running the World. A quality day's caving, or even a bad day's caving for that matter, is therefore a fine antidote to the general state of things.

Firstly you tend to be with fantastic friends but then there are the guides and topos. Equipped with either a Braemoor or Cooper description you feel navigationally invulnerable. Incredibly, for such quality work, the Braemoor routes are freely available online (here) and while NFTFH was purchased, profits from it went to cave conservation projects. The CNCC topos (here) and indeed the majority of the bolts we dangle from are also produced, installed and maintained by volunteers. Then you have days like today where your chosen trip is only possible due to the hard work of folk prerigging nearly all the entrances to the Gaping Ghyll system, cheers to the Bradford for this. Finally there are the diggers without who many, now classic, trips just wouldn't exist. Many of their stories can be found in the excellent Adventures Underground, the profits of which again have gone to good causes. I feel exceptionally priviledged to be able to escape to this bubble of magnanimous altruism, even for an evening.

Parking in Newby allowed a pleasant walk up, avoiding the half term crowds, to the tented shanty town surrounding Gaping Ghyll. The new online booking system was working a treat, a relaxed atmosphere pervading the shake hole and no queue snaking its way back down towards Bar pot. Perhaps the Bradford should offer consultancy services to the Nepali government, they'd soon sort the Everest queue. We checked in at the winch tent and set off to find Corky's. We found various other shake holes and Hensler's before finally locating our chosen entrance. Not so sure about the 250 m on a bearing of 110°, just behind the toilet block being possibly a better description.

We changed out of our sweat sodden clothes into even more inappropriate for the temperature neoprene, fuelled up on banana cake, quaffed some drink and descended the ladder into the coolness. The dug/blasted nature of the passage was immediately evident as we crawled, via a couple of short drops, towards the first pitch. It's recommended to approach this feet first along the preceeding crawl and this approach did make it easy to get onto the pitch.

Short pitches then come thick (thin?) and fast before the Nemesis crawl which isn't as bad as it sounds, though it is at a slightly funny angle for much of its length. Another short pitch intervenes before a shuffle under (through?) the Elephant's arse leads to Chemo Tim, the penultimate pitch.

Carefully descending the boulder slope below the echo from beyond became unmissable, something big lay beyond. If we weren't disappointed I can't imagine the emotion among the diggers as they reached the aptly named Vindication. It's an awe inspiring place that drops you into the vastness of Hall. At the foot of the pitch we had chance to do something we'd been unable to do since the start of the trip - walk. 

It wasn't to be a huge leg stretch, just a wander up to the top of the col that leads into Boulder hall before retracing our steps for 30 m to find on the left, behind jammed blocks, the entrance to Mud Hensler's. A slippy slide down for a couple of metres before an unviting hole on the right led to an even less inviting muddy slip down to the crawl. "Are ducks a thing?" is an oft discussed question in our office and this became the subject of conversation, albeit about ducks of a different feather, as we passed an aqueous section before an almost pleasant crawl over smooth, low friction, bedrock - our small bags containing our SRT kit just seemed to keep sliding when pushed. Suddenly we popped out of the crawl into a towering aven with a rope hanging out of the darkness, Hensler's High aven.

I love the tales of how the ever resourceful Hensler tried to ascertain the height of this aven, from rockets to Helium balloons trailing tape measures. While shy of his initial estimates it's still an impressive pitch and I'm glad I wasn't rigging it - I'm not sure how I'd reach the deviation at the transition between open aven and the shapely runnel in its side.

While Hensler's aven lies directly beneath the entrance of Hensler's pot, inbetween the two the passage follows almost 200 m of dog leg. Velcro passage lived up to its name grabbing at my bag and SRT kit at every opportunity before we arrived at Burnley pitch. At the top of the pitch we removed our gear for the thrutch to follow. While never tight the connection and Birth canal were often snug, at least navigation was straight forward, just follow the shot holes.

Haigh's Bottom pitch (is there a Top pitch or is it purely anthropomorphic?) allowed us to stand once again and also to admire the pitch's rock architecture. Monica's, AC/DC and Buzzy pitches followed in short order (though I did almost miss Buzzy opting for a side trip to the ropes hanging from Big Benn aven). From the pitches it was once again back onto hands and knees with the occasional respite of flat out sections in which to rest in the cooling water.

A solitary frog signalled that the exit was close before a short piece of shoring, a wall of warm air and the foot of the exit ladder. We emerged back into the Dales in the middle of a heat wave and I staggered back to our clothes drying at Corky's, my legs unaccustomed to walking after nearly four hours of crawling. Thirst quenched washing down another piece of banana bread we made our way to sign out at the winch tent. Those about to descend and those who'd just returned determinable by their expression of either anticipation or quiet reflection.

For us too the return to Newby allowed us to begin to contemplate a truely cracking journey through two amazing pots. Even after a few drinks back in the Barn the experience still hadn't fully been absorbed. In NFTFH Cooper states that trips only made it into the book if they left them smiling for a few days after. While far from a Black book trip, where use of prerigging would definitely be eschewed, it's a trip that will definitely keep me grinning for a while.

21st May 2026 - River of no return

It's that time of year when the Bradford pothole club take up residence at Gaping ghyll. As well as setting up the winch into main chamber, they also kindly rig most of the entrances. This allows the visiting caver to choose from a smorgasboard of through trip possibilities all without the encumberment of tackle sacks. It doesn't get much better than this! Despite everything being rigged the recent wet weather limited our choice slightly so Tony chose Stream to Marilyn from the specials board and we headed to Clapham. The village was living up to its name with Fell beck making a thundering entrance into the village and we wondered if it might be too wet even for our 'wet alternatives'.

On the walk up through Trow ghyll we encountered a couple of heavily laden Bradford lads. Mike kindly reduced their load and we chatted about the recent successful climbs out of the main chamber. As we had our own call out and they weren't winching they also suggested we could just crack on with our trip rather than having to head up to their camp to let them know our intentions.

Leaving the main trod we headed directly for the dry valley on the slopes of Ingleborough and at its foot located the tubed entrance of Stream.

Last time we were here I was preoccupied with helping a bird of prey escape the confines of the tube so I'd completely forgotten about the slightly awkward moves between the entrance and second pitches. Once through these though the cave opens up to superb proportions. The pitches that follow are classic Yorkshire caving and it's almost too soon that you arrive at the horizontal part of the cave, a dash past a couple of waterfalls waking you from your revery.

Fortunately Mike has a good memory and led us through to Sand cavern without the numerous side excursions that we went on during our previous visit. At the junction between South and South East passage we dropped our gear for the obligitory trip to main chamber. It truly is a magnificent place and we're so fortunate to have it so close to home.

Retracing our steps to our cache at the junction we followed the trade route to the bottom of the Bar pot pitches before carrying on to South East aven and the drop down into Hensler's new crawl for a refreshing squirm. Despite our earlier concerns the water levels were fine and at the end of the crawl we went on a quick sight seeing tour to Hensler's master cave, passage on a much grander scale than either of his eponymous crawls.

From where the Disappointment water joins the master cave it's just a short distance before the scramble up to the bottom of the pitches and another classic Yorkshire streamway. It's worth noting that the warnings about loose rock should definitely be heeded, I'm really not sure what's holding some of the pitches together.

The distinctive grating cover of Marilyn was silhoueted against the dying light of a perfect Dales evening. Not for the first time this evening we'd missed last orders but once again Casa Brooks came to the rescue. More pubs should definitely serve cake with their pints!

Tony's Blair Witchesque video of New Hensler's:

14th May 2026 - I went, I watched, I wussed

After an amazing trip to King pot I was intrigued to go and have a look at some of the other East Kingsdale classics. With a future Spectacle-Vesper exchange in mind I wanted to make sure I'd get through Splutter crawl. Fortunately Mike was also up for a recce so we headed up onto the moor on a glorious evening.

We found the big pile of stones that acts as a distinctive way point for pots in this area and located Vesper before retracing our steps back to Spectacle. The entrance didn't quite match the CNCC description but after a pitch and a couple of short drops we found a crawl that did match in all but one way. While the description mentioned shallow puddles of water, this crawl sported continuous and deeper than I'd have liked water.

I sat and looked for a bit before deciding I definitely wasn't up for it before letting Mike have a closer look. I'm pretty sure he'd have gone for it but I was almost back at the pitch by this point and so he (reluctantly?) followed.

From the comfort of an armchair I think the CNCC description is making the most of the constrained space and throwing the word tight in early, describing the entrance pitch, is probably just forewarning of things to come. NFTFH with a bit more space gives, as ever, a spot on description.

9th May 2026 - CPC X TNC

Before the trip report begins, just to acknowledge that this is the 300th Thursday night club post on a blog set up almost 20 years ago by Tom. While he doesn't spend as much time underground he's still adventuring as hard as ever. There's loads of inspiring stuff on his website here and on his YouTube channel here.

Club caving. I've had a fantastic caving "career" spanning 20 odd years, going on trips with mates and eschewing the club scene due to not wanting to spend hours waiting at the bottom of cold, wet pitches for 20 people to ascend before you. A few years ago though, I attended a few of the truly excellent CNCC training events (see here) and was chatting about how fortunate we were as Dales cavers: free high quality topos, safe well bolted caves and massively subsidised training. With being a recipient of all of these things I'd mentioned about it feeling a bit wrong not to be giving anything back in return. The trainer, Ian Patrick, suggested signing up to the CNCC volunteer list (here) and joining a club. The club in question was the CPC and soon after I'd paid my subs and joined up.

Weekends tend to be busy with work or family commitments (thus caving on a Thursday night) so, with the exception of a terrific trip to the sump in Whitescar, I hadn't managed to make it on any club trips. A free Saturday though coincided with a trip to a cave I'd wanted to visit for a while, King pot. With the recent passing of the legendary Geoff Yeadon I'd been rewatching the fantastic Sid Perou films on YouTube about the record breaking dives in Kingsdale and wanted to see the King pot downstream sump for myself.

Friday night my bed time reading was the trip's entry in Not for the faint hearted, followed by a chapter of Pete Boardman's Sacred Summits to put everything into perspective. Saturday morning felt strange, no ropes to sort, no laminated description and a panic over what to wear. This wasn't due to caving being a particularly stylish sport but more not knowing how fast we'd be moving and whether we'd be taking on some of the more aqueous parts of the trip. I threw a number of options into the van, drove youngest to work, picked up some mini pork pies and Snickers from Lidl and headed over to Kingsdale. 

Arriving at the layby by Braida Garth I was warmly greeted by the trip organiser AJ and the rest of the team, Jay, Mick, Simon, Julie and Toby began to assemble. With the team fully present it was time to get changed and as others seemed to be getting into neofleeces I followed suit, putting a balaclava in my pocket to ward off the cold if necessary. AJ had split the tackle between 7 small bags so we each had a small load and no single cumbersome tackle sack.

The walk up the hill provided a chance to start to get to know my fellow club mates. Currently the news is even more doomy and gloomy than usual and I spend most of my time at work with kids who seem hell bent on making life difficult for other people. It's extremely refreshing therefore to meet new, great people who actually reaffirm your faith in humanity.

The angle of the hill relented as we moved out of the woods onto the open moor and Julie, with the coordinates of the pot in her watch, soon had us at the entrance shake hole. Knowing it was going to be a fair while before I saw it again, I took a moment to take in Kingsdale in all its glory before following down into the shake hole and the rocky slit at its base.

Oh! King pot has a reputation but I wasn't expecting it to rear its head so soon. The 2 or so metre climb down looked awfully narrow. I couldn't call it a day here though, so slithered down, reversing this manoeuvre being the first item on a growing list of things I'd have to worry about on this trip. In the small chamber that followed AJ was quickly changing my mind about club trips, the handline was already rigged and folk were rapidly passing through the squeeze. Tackling this obstacle with SRT kit on a slither of confidence returned, it wasn't particularly squeezy, though these things are often different on return, especially when tired.

Once again arriving at the first, Perfect, pitch the rope was already rigged and a couple of people already down. Ahead I could hear calls for rope bags to be passed forward, this was definitely not AJ's first rodeo. Our tackle sack was hung at the start of a traverse over a pit as the in situ rope appeared sound and we were soon at the second pitch with its slightly constricted start. Once through I was able to pass my bag forward and enjoy the rare delight of tackle free caving.

A section of crawling followed with a couple of junctions. As well as being able to swiftly and efficiently rig it transpires AJ's also a dab hand at impromptu dry walling, the direction to go af each junction never therefore being in doubt. Before long we started what was, for me, the trickiest obstacle yet. A bedding plane traverse over an awkward width slot. Any appendage that slipped down from the horizontal plane was immediately grabbed by this rift and I began wishing for core muscles that I don't have to keep me out of it. Towards the end of this crawl a left and then right hand bend in quick succession add a further twist. Fortunately helpful advice was forthcoming from those who'd successfully negotiated these turns (lay on your right for the first and then swing your legs down to allow you to lay on your left for the second). The sense of relief at passing this point was as sudden as the 4 m drop that followed. Without the in situ rope this would be a heart in mouth moment, but with it perfectly manageable.

In the chamber at the bottom of the rope we regrouped, Simon with bag number 7, the last bag, bringing up the rear. It was at this point I discovered that not all the bags were equally light (heavy?), Simon's contained not only the longest rope for the final pitch but a large first aid kit and other group paraphernalia. I suddenly felt very guilty at my unladen passage through this bit of cave.

The way on follows Queensway (personally I'd say more to the right rather than the "directly ahead" in NFTFH). Now I'm not sure about this bit of passage, I think it probably says more about the high quality of the chat on the way out that it passed in the blink of an eye whereas on the way back it seemed indeterminable.

Emma's pitch intervenes and Anne's is bypassed before the vast King Henry Hall. Bloodaxe follows, then Victoria before Elizabeth. This has to be one of my favourite pitches. I don't want to give spoilers, just go and enjoy it! With nothing to better it, removal and caching of SRT gear seemed more than appropriate and we once again regrouped, Simon now finally free of his burden.

The slippy up and over of Jane's pitch was assisted by the in situ ropes and a couple of additional slings before the final bit of crawling and short drop into the East Kingsdale main drain. We stomped up to the upstream sump, possibly the most inviting sump pool I've ever visited before retracing our steps and following the stream to the more traditional, brown and murky, historical sump.

The Black book describes the journey on from the sumps through the Grasshopper series but the general consensus was that we were more than happy having reached this point and the upward journey beckoned. Once again AJ's organisation was a master stroke and though it felt wrong at some points ending up bagless, his insistence that full bags kept being passed forward worked superbly. While some bits of passage seemed significantly longer than on our way in, we steadily ticked off obstacles and arrived back at what I felt to be the hardest, the crawl-traverse.

Keeping my bag at right angles to the rift and passing it through a couple of short cuts meant that its transportation wasn't too bad through the t-shaped passage but unfortunately Julie's bag chose this moment to disgorge its contents leaving her Stop just beyond even the longest arms reach at the bottom of the rift. Fortunately some next level thinking from those behind turned a krab on a tether into a very effective hook and line and the day was saved.

Entrance fever now gripped us and the pace seemed to significantly accelerate with this obstacle behind us and we were soon up the last couple of pitches. With elation overiding any fatigue even the last rift climb onto the moor passed without issue and we were once again on the sun drenched slopes of Kingsdale after about 7 hours underground. The walk down to Braida Garth was a lot less sweat soaked than the climb up from it though the gentlr rise from the farm back to the road caused my muscles to point out that they'd been working pretty hard.

Huge thanks to AJ for his planning of the trip, to Mick for nobly volunteering to sort all the ropes out post trip and everyone else for the quality company - my previous ideas about what a club trip would be like have been blown away.

7th May 2026 - Definitely under rated

Over the years I've had sone cracking trips in Sell Gill, from 'full team' TNC trips (with Phil, our fastest runner, being dispatched to ensure we didn't miss last orders) to being a guinea pig on Tony's level 2 assessment. Never though had I been down the wet, Goblin, route. A visit from one of Mike's nephews meant that we required a short but adventurous outing and Goblin seemed to fit the bill.

Arriving at the entrance though there was only a trickle of water going down the stream and with the route solely being SRT, with no grovelly bits, I opted to leave my oversuit on the surface. Mike, once again, magnanimously handed over rigging duties despite knowing that this is a highlight of the route. It has been superbly bolted allowing some superb positions to be reached and the rock architecture to be fully appreciated. We're definitely going to be back with Tony for an exchange between the two routes.

While I emerged from the cave pretty dry in just my undersuit, my poor oversuit on the surface had managed to get wet anyway from a passing rain shower.

Joseph on the cracking final pitch

Mike joining him at the rebelay

Terrific rigging in and out of the oxbow

23rd April 2026 - an under appreciated classic

One of the things I hate about my job is that you think you've a bit of free time, plan to make the most of it and then it's suddenly whipped away from you with an emergency cover for a last period of the day, year 9 Spanish lesson. Luckily one of the things I love about my job is that I work with some amazing colleagues who then bail you out.

So it was that I arrived at Mike's in time for Fat Rascals and a brew before the three of us headed for Horton. What a difference a weekday makes. I'd been here at the weekend and it had been packed with Three Peakers, now we could park right next to the start of our footpath.

It was a beautiful evening as we walked up the Pennine Way to the cross roads, Curlews calling their mournful cry. Taking a route intersecting the two paths through a bit of tussocky moorland then brought us to Little Hull pot.

 

A short stooping section inside the entrance brought us quickly to the crawl. It's not a bad crawl as these things go and without tackle sacks you'd hardly notice it. Unfortunately we all had to navigate a bag along it but, dues paid, we were soon enjoying an increasingly impressive streamway. At the pitch Mike had tied into the first bolts but then extremely kindly asked if I'd like to rig. Having read that there were some interesting situations ahead I quickly accepted his offer. The pitch became interesting straight away with a swing through a window into a parallel rift followed by a short traverse to another y-hang. Up to this point things had been flowing well but search as I might I couldn't find the next deviation. Fortunately as Tony descended he was able to rectify this for me. It's on the same wall as you're descending and out to your right if facing said wall.

Approaching the second pitch I was glad I'd read the, as ever, excellent CNCC description and ignored the lower bolts, instead following a rising line up to a shelf. Through a window from the shelf I could see the y-hang and rigged the traverse line to a an intermediate bolt just the other side of the orifice. Secured by my cowstails I was then able to defenestrate myself and reach across the void under tension to rig the main hang. And what a hang. This is a great pitch. Beautifully fluted, stunningly proportioned and with a couple of dazzling white formations to finish it off. The fact that there was no way I was going to make it to the second deviation didn't bother me at all, I was just awed by my surroundings. 

Tony soon arrived and at the base of the pitch with the next rope and we were soon down the next short pitch to the streamway. A quick scuttle brought us to a decision point, to duck or squeeze. The CNCC description for this pot has a few phrases that are pretty Cooperesque (those who've ever followed a Mike Cooper description in Not for the Faint Hearted will hopefully know exactly what I mean) and of the squeeze suggest that, "Cavers who are big-boned, gym-addicted, or over-enthusiastic about food may struggle". I wouldn't describe myself as big-boned, I haven't been to a gym in years and though I'm quite partial to a bit of cake, thought I'd give it a go. For me there were three tight sections, one straight away lead to a flake that then then needed to be stood up on. A second on a downward traverse from this point and then on a final drop back into the streamway. I was definitely glad I'd limited myself to a single Fat Rascal earlier.

With the full team through we carried on down stream to a section that reminded us of trips in Cantabria with any "up" points pre rigged with extremely handy rope of dubious provenance. The exposed traverse that followed one of the climbs also benefited from an in situ line and brought us safely to the final pitch. It's worth noting that unlike the rest of the cave so far, this pitch does have some loose material on it.

Following the stream again and with one final up, again with fixed rope, we emerged into a chamber where the character of the cave changes. The clean, solid and pale limestone is replaced by black and yellow shale and a sloping sandy floor that leads back down to the stream and the final ominous sump pool. I'm always in great awe of the people for whom this point marks the start of their journey, the cave to this point merely acting as a prologue.

With the sump marking the mid way point of our journey it was time to turn around and retrace our steps. It does worry me that from the sump back to the final pitch the only foot prints were ours, all sign of previous travellers having been washed clean by flood.

At the downstream end of the sum we decided we were going to go for the full Little Hull experience and having enjoyed the squeezes on the way in we wanted to sample the duck on the way out. It is significantly quicker as it allows SRT kit to remain on and, for suitably attired cavers, not too bad at all my head remaining out of the water all the way.

Any chilliness from the duck was soon dispelled on the pitches and I was definitely properly warm by the time I'd finished pushing my tackle sack along the entrance crawl. We emerged into a stunning night, the bulk of Pen y Ghent distinguished by an absence of stars. It was though significantly cooler than when we entered the cave, a thin layer of frost shimmering on the bags we'd left at the entrance.

Arriving back at the car in Horton we discovered it wasn't Thursday anymore and we'd definitely missed last orders. Fortunately Mike's bar has not only far more liberal opening times but also a mind reader of a host serving each person's desired tipple without even having to ask. Squeezes behind us there was no issue with the accompanying cookies either.

Little Hull really is a fantastic pot and I can't believe I've made it to this point in my caving career without a visit. It has everything a classic Yorkshire pot should have, condensed into a trip perfectly suited for an evening visit.  

 

1st April 2026 - Christmas at Easter

Wanting a few photos of Gavel Rigg but not wanting the toil of carrying camera equipment through it, a short cut option of a trip down Christmas pot was planned. After having a look at some of the othe entrances in the area: Gavel Rigg, P5 and Pay Sank (do like the origjn of this name - think P5 in French), we began our descent through the entrance tube of Christmas (a Yulehole? Look it up!). There are some cracking pitches that eventually bring you to the beautifully decorated junction with Grange Rigg itself and then finally the 'terminal' boulder choke, a way through which we didn't feel like exploring having had a lovely trip to this point.

Exploring cave a bit further East of our usual stomping grounds also allowed exploration of a different hostelry. As with Christmas pot, the New Inn in Clapham is definitely worth a visit.

The entrance tube to Christmas pot

Tony entering the natural cave

Tony on the opening pitches

The finely decorated junction with Grange Rigg

Nearing the bottom of Grange Rigg